Amelia frowned, the name familiar. “Edmund’s friend?”
“The very same!” Valery nodded.
“What has he done? Is it something awful? Was it in the scandal sheets this morning? I did try to get hold of them before Martin burned them, but I was not swift enough.”
Valery laughed, waving her glass of lemonade toward the far side of the main ballroom, where a large group of gentlemen seemed to have gathered.
“Mercy, no—he has not done anything awful, although I suppose that depends on what you think about the institution of marriage.” She flashed a grin. “Honestly, I am surprised that any of these debutantes are bothering with anyone else tonight. IfIwere them, and I were inclined to marry, I would concentrateallmy efforts upon him.”
Squinting in vague understanding, Amelia peered up at her friend. “I take it he is in want of a wife, then?”
“He is unashamedly in pursuit of a bride of convenience,” Valery whispered back. “It is supposed to be a secret, but it is more of an open one. Not that the mothers of society care about that; they will be in a rush to hurl their daughters into his path, whether he is capable of loving them or not.”
Tapping her foot on the sleek marble floor to aid her concentration, Amelia searched her mind for that title, the ‘Earl of Westyork.’ If memory served, he had been heralded in the papers as a war hero, some years ago, and had not left his pursuit of victory on the battlefields of the Continent. In the almost two years since those news stories, he had made a new name for himself as the wealthiest gentleman in theton.
“But… is he not the hermit?” Amelia asked quietly, certain that her memory was not mistaken. “I thought he had not been seen by society in two years, accepting visits from only his friends. I am certain that is what Edmund alluded to.”
Valery shrugged. “When a gentleman is in want of a wife, he must crawl out of the rock beneath which he has been hiding.Iam not interested, of course, but Iamcurious to see what the fellow looks like. These obscenely wealthy gentlemen are often compensating for their appearance, or so I have found.”
“Valery!” Amelia elbowed her friend lightly in the ribs. “You are wicked, sometimes.”
Valery laughed, gesturing again to the group of gentlemen. “But am I mistaken? We shall have to find out. My research into the courting habits of the male of the species demands it.”
She took hold of Amelia’s hand and, with a wink, pulled her away from her favored spot by the wall and led her through the tide of guests. Amelia kept her head down, staring mostly at her shoes, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. Shewouldhave attempted to protest against the entire thing, and tugged back on Valery’s hand, but she did not want to disappoint her friend.
“Do you see him?” a young lady whispered to someone.
“I think that must be him over there,” a different woman said.
“Why has he not been announced? What if he is not here at all?” muttered another.
Valery skirted them both around the dance floor and closer to the group of gentlemen—wallflowers in their own way, perhaps—who crowded the far side of the hall. There was an empty table, fortuitously placed, and Valery wasted no time nudging Amelia into one of the chairs while she took the other.
An irate older woman cast them a few nasty looks that brought a sudden heat to Amelia’s cheeks. She bowed her head and fidgeted with a teaspoon, mortified to have taken a seat from someone who might need it more than her.
“So, which one do you think he is?” Valery asked, peering at the group.
Amelia gave a small shrug. “I have not the faintest notion.”
“Amelia, you have to actuallylook,” Valery urged.
Swallowing uncomfortably, her entire face now ablaze, Amelia discreetly glanced back over her shoulder. She skimmed her gaze across the congregation of gentlemen, but none stood out as Earls of exceptional wealth. In truth, she would have expected such a man to be crowing about his fortune, which would have made him easier to spot.
“I do not know, Valery,” she whispered, turning back.
“Well, I shall figure this out. I know I shall.” Valery made no attempt to hide what she was doing, staring outright at the gentlemen as if she were observing art at the London gallery.
Meanwhile, Amelia thought it wise to stare in the very opposite direction, but as she raised her gaze to that spot—choosing the corner of the room—she jumped a little.
A gentleman stood there in the shadow of a pillar, much like the one that Amelia had hidden behind earlier. He stood alone as if he had been tasked with guarding that particular corner, his arms behind his back, highlighting broad shoulders and excellent posture. His hair was dark and cut somewhat shorter than the fashion, while eyes of an indiscernible color squinted outward with something akin to judgment, creased like he was looking into the sun.
And those eyes, for a moment, fixed on Amelia. A cold stare that poured embarrassed fuel onto the fire of her already flushed cheeks, to the point where they were probably bright purple.
You gooseberry, Amelia!she scolded herself, for she knew better than to raise her gaze to anyone, accidentally or otherwise. She would not make the same mistake again, keeping her head bowed until Valery was finished trying to find an Earl in a stack of gentlemen.
But it was a different voice that brought her out of her quietude, a shadow falling across the table.
“Whatare you doing, Sister?” Martin rasped out of the corner of his mouth, putting on the expression of someone who was just having a cordial conversation. “Why are you sitting down instead of dancing? You do not sit at a table with friends, Amelia. You sit at a table with family or not at all.”
